


Who Knows How Many People Have Been Sucked Into These Rifts

by aranya



Series: Maker Preserve Their Stupid, Stupid Souls [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabbles, Explicit Language, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Vote and I may continue the series!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9485012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aranya/pseuds/aranya
Summary: A place to dump my Modern Girl in Thedas ideas. If you like them, say so! I'll be sure to write more occasionally.





	1. Languages Are Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to just dump all my drabbles in a place, most of them aren't finished  
> but...if they get enough attention...they might be *wiNK WINK*

A flurry of blues and purples smacked Anya’s face as cold air rushed past her skin. She opened her mouth to scream as the ground got closer and closer. Ground that definitely should not have been there, especially with how stark white it was. What was even happening? What had happened to lead up to these events? Before the young woman could recall anything, brown skin met the cold and wet and her train of thought came to a screeching halt.

 

“Oof!” Something else had followed her descent into the snowy abyss of not-dead-yet.

 

Anya had landed in a soft mountain of snow, she realized. And was still very much alive. She would have been glad for that, if she wasn’t still in her bikini because, “Holy fuck it’s freezing.”

 

She wasn’t sure what she should have expected to be honest. Backflipping into a pool should have been one of two things: extremely fun, or extraordinarily painful. Instead, the young woman had found herself falling through the sky at 20 miles an hour, still in her bikini. Did the backflip cause some brain damage? Was she in a strange coma dream?

 

No, that couldn’t be. She remembered actually hitting the water and chilling in the pool for a bit. What happened next though? Before she continued that train of thought she grabbed the object that fell on her, her bag, she realized, and abruptly stood up. The snow under her feet was painfully cold, making her eyes scan the landscape quicker for ground that wasn’t white.

 

“I can think about how I got here later,” Anya muttered, teeth chattering, “Right now I just don’t want to die.” ‘ _ Even if this is just a coma dream, it’s too real to risk it.’ _

 

The moment her feet touched frozen soil, she rummaged through her bag to find  _ something _ that could protect her from the weather. Her hands shook from the cold but she was determined to find something warm and quickly pulled out a large thick towel, wrapping it around her body. It wasn’t large enough to wrap around more than once but she would have been grateful for anything that left her a little less naked. Sure it was cute to wear a bikini that matched her strangely coloured hair but not when it was -20 degrees. Celsius. 

 

Anya sat on her towel, crossing her legs so her toes wouldn’t fall off. Then she continued to rummage through to see if she had brought anything else useful with her. 

 

“Glasses!” She exclaimed, letting out a relieved chuckle and quickly putting them on. “Phone...no service. Figures.” Scowling, she dropped her phone back in. “Keys...Wallet...Pepper spray…” The young woman paused as if to check that was  _ all _ she had. “Fuck!” She paused to take in a deep breath. “Figures I’d leave my clothes and my shoes outside my bag.”

 

She stood up, zipping up her bag and putting one strap over her shoulder. That way she could focus all her efforts on holding the towel tight. 

 

An inspection of her surroundings quickly showed her that all hope was not lost. Someone was living here! There were large saws sticking out of trees and axes left to lean on the side of stumps. If Anya hadn’t gone a little crazy from the cold she might have been slightly suspicious. She lived in a city afterall and it hadn’t been snowing. In fact it was the middle of summer, hence the bikini and all. Then she heard voices and any reason she might have had was overruled by the possibility of safety and comfort. “Over here!” She yelled, firmly rooted to her snow-less spot. Like hell she was stepping into bitter, frosty hell. The voices grew louder. Had they heard her screaming? She thanked all that was holy and waved an arm for effect, “Hey!! A little help? Shoes? Clothes?”

 

She must have been a sight to behold. Purple and blue hair drenched in water and snow, a bikini to match and a white towel wrapped around her freezing form. 

 

_ They  _ were a sight to behold too. Anya found herself staring wide eyed at the shiny, silver armour reflecting almost as much sunlight as the snow. Then they all started yelling. And pulling out sharp swords. Sharp, pointy, killing swords.

 

Anya screamed.

 

They screamed.

 

“Fur'f n qrzba!” 

“Jul vf ure unve gung pbybhe?”

“Xvyy vg!” 

 

“Hey!!” She yelled, putting her hands in front of her to get them to stop or maybe to surrender, either way it caused the towel to fall and the men started screaming bloody murder.

 

The men in armour waved their swords at her, repeating something profound. She didn’t understand.

 

“Fur'f n qrzba! N qrfver qrzba!” One of them sputtered. 

 

“Trg gur grzcynef, dhvpxyl,” An older one ordered. 

 

Anya considered herself to be pretty international. She was good at it, identifying languages and picking up small phrases. It was _her_ _thing_. Something she considered to be one of her strong suits, especially with being able to speak more than one language. So when she couldn’t recognize _anything_ they were saying, she thought she was pretty much fucked.

 

‘ _ What language was that?’ _

 

She quickly squatted, grabbing her towel and hopping back up to wrap it around her. With one hand she held the towel tighter than before and put the other in front of her trying to placate the small crowd. They seemed to calm down, although slightly still wary, their swords protecting them as if she were some sort of abomination. One of them walked towards her and she put her palm out again, causing him to stop in confusion.

 

She slowly raised her bare foot and looked him straight in the eyes. “Shoes,” She said, her voice taking a serious tone. They looked like they wanted to take her somewhere. If they were going to drag her around in the snow they’d have to take her kicking and screaming. 

 

His eyes didn’t leave her form as she put her foot down. He waved to one of his comrades and said something in gibberish, "Trg gur jbzna fubrf." 

 

“This better not be a prank,” She snarled quietly. Not the greatest idea, as the daggers he held, that were slowly sinking down, sprung back up again. 

 

Anya sighed, exhausted from her interaction with this man. She placed a hand to her chest, hoping to get  _ somewhere  _ with this. “Anya,” She stated.

 

The man raised an eyebrow and stared at her, as if trying to guess her intentions. “Samahl,” He replied, lowering his weapons again. He tucked one of the daggers away and ran his fingers through his long brown hair. 

 

“AH!” She yelled and pointed at his face with her manicured nail, “Holy fuck!”

 

Samahl, straightened up, eyes widening as his head snapped to glare at her. 

 

Anya just stared back at him. ‘ _ His ears...Yeah okay nope. Fuck this shit. I’m out. Wake up Anya.’ _

 

When the elf realized there was nothing actually  _ wrong, _ he sighed and muttered, “Qnza  _ shemlen. _ ” 

 

“ _ Shemlen?!”  _ Anya repeated outraged. The LARPing losers were trying to insult her in video game lingo? She would have none of it!

 

As a soldier returned with shoes that he practically tossed at her she stuffed her feet in the warm fur boots as she replied sarcastically, “Oh! I am  _ so _ sorry for being a shemlen you damn Dragon Age obsessed LARPer. Really!  _ Ir abelas, dahlen!”  _ She made sure to really drag out that dahlen.

 

_ ‘I’m really one to talk though...but at least I’m not out of my goddamn mind like these fanatical fantasy cultists.’ _

 

Samahl just stared at her in shock before grabbing her arm forcefully. “Oi!” She snapped, attempting to wrench her arm back. He was strong though, almost strong enough to make her doubt he was just some nerd. He said something to the other soldiers, “V'z gnxvat guvf bar gb Avtugvatnyr. Fbzrguvat'f boivbhfyl abg evtug urer.” They nodded back in response, albeit reluctantly. 

 

‘ _ If this really is Thedas why would they be following the orders of an elf so readily?’ _

 

Anya winced at her thoughts.

 

‘ _ Wow Anya, racist much? Maybe he’s one of Leliana’s agents. He’s rogue-y enough for it.’ _

 

The young woman was brought back to reality by a harsh tug on her arm. Samahl pulled again, indicating that she should be following him, even as butt naked as she was.

 

_ ‘Come on girl, what other elven do you know?’ _ __   
__   
“Venavis!” She hissed, hoping it meant stop.

 

He stared at her again, eyes wide with surprise. ‘ _ Ha! Look at  _ this  _ shem! Speakin’ Elven. Aw yeah.’ _

 

Samahl let go, instead putting his hand on her back and gently pushing her along. He said something, “Vs lbh eha V'yy  _ qent  _ lbh gb Avtugvatnyr,” probably threatening her again if his tone of voice said anything. As she walked along, towel wrapped tight with both hands, Anya began to recognize the path, the landscape and even some of the people. There was a stupid empty cabin that for some reason they didn’t put to use. There was Lysette! Gawking at her. Anya wondered if it was the towel or the hair. Probably both. 

 

Anya took in her surroundings. Everything, down to the finest detail, had been painstakingly included, except this Haven seemed to be much larger. More of a small village than a camping site with a few shacks. She almost wanted to laugh. Did they not have lives or something? At least they wouldn’t be able to replicate the Breach even if they tried. Then Anya looked up as if to prove her point. 

 

There was nothing to prove. A green, swirling vortex providing glimpses of the world beyond it contrasted starkly against the pale, blue sky. Anya suddenly felt overwhelmed. The cold was bone chilling. The hand on her back scorched her even through the towel. The prickling on her skin, which she had been writing off as the weather suddenly felt wrong and unnatural. Is that what magic felt like? The mages and templars? Anya was going to go hysterical. What the  _ hell _ was going on? How could they have  _ possibly _ done that unless she was actually here? 

 

“No. Nope. This isn’t real. None of this is real.” She stopped and turned around, flicking her frozen hair in Samahl’s face. “You’re a fucking liar. And I’m not having any of it. Come on. Where are the cameras? Where’s the host? I’m gonna fucking sue you for this kidnapping bullshit!” As she raised her voice, the people around her tensed. She saw Cassandra in the corner of her eye and focused all of her attention on her, blood draining from her face. She looked so real. Her armour, her sword, the scar, the  _ cheekbones. _ Hell, even the way she carried herself. Tall and proud, like a  _ fucking _ noble.

 

Anya stepped away, slowly. Her breath quickened. Her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest.  “Please,” she begged, closing her eyes tight and placing a hand on her forehead. “Please tell me none of this is real.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Please tell me none of this is real. What is  _ going on _ ?”

 

Samahl appeared even more startled now. His hand hovered over the dagger on his side. “Zvff, lbh arrq gb pnyz qbja orsber,” He said softly, in that stupid nonsense language. Then he shook his head, as if to correct himself, “ _ Atisha Anya. _ ” 

 

_ ‘Come on Anya, think, quickly, what can you do? You need to get away from these crazy people. These crazy people with  _ **swords** .  _ They could kill you. You need to run. Run. Run!’ _

 

Anya took a deep breath, twisted her body and raced the hell out of there. Or at least, she tried to. Running away into a frozen mountain wasteland wasn’t exactly the best plan she had ever come up with, and the moment she tried to run she smacked into a solid wall of grey. 

 

There was a sickening crunch, followed by a pained yell as the woman clutched her nose. The snow beneath her was quickly staining red. She took a step back to curse the inanimate object, hoping to earn a good kick in. But when she swung her leg back for sweet, sweet revenge, she stopped abruptly, kicking snow instead. Of course the inanimate object wasn’t so inanimate. _Of course,_ it was wearing these giant, _ridiculous_ pants. _Of_ _course_ she just _had to_ literally run into the Iron Bull.

  
Her eyes tried to burn holes in his abs. She yelled in frustration through clenched teeth. “What in the ever loving  _ fuck! _ This stupid cock sucking, piece of shit place!” Anya angrily kicked the snow again while still holding her bleeding nose, “Vaffanculo! Madarchod!” She glared at the towering Qunari in front of her, “J’en ai ral le cul, j'en ai plus rien à foutre!”

  
Anya punched him with her bloody hand, only to snap it back to her chest in pain. “Fuck!” Her teary eyes left him to study her hand, red with blood and bruising. The people that had gathered seem less worried she was a demon and more worried she was just a crazy person. 


	2. Reset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you play a game and you don't get the results you wanted or anticipated? 
> 
> You reset.

**CYCLE ONE**

 

You are a human being from the planet Earth. The year is 2017 and you're pretty sure that you were drinking coffee at work not too long ago. Actually maybe you were petting your cat. Or were you jogging outside? It doesn't matter. Right now you're stuck in a place you didn't think you'd ever see with your own eyes and holy shit does it suck.

 

Honestly if you had the option to dig through literal shit for an _entire_ _month_ in some backwater countryside instead of being here of _all_ places you would do it. Anywhere but _here_. You're slightly angry at yourself. How could you have possibly gotten to Thedas through any fault but your own? Now you're _lying on the cold hard ground_. Three inch shackles around your hands, _kinky_ , with absolutely no clue what's going on. In the corner of your eye you see soldiers with _swords_ pointed at you when they notice you've woken up. Their silent nods tell you exactly what's going to happen next. _Well_ , you already knew but it felt cool pretending to know what they were thinking.

 

The door creaks open. A tall woman walks in confidently,  _ angrily _ . You can almost tell from the way she circles you, her piercing stare sending a chill down your spine. Or it could be,  _ you know _ , the fact that she wants to kill you for murdering the Divine and tearing down her faith in the Maker. Either way you know you're fucked.

 

Then the shadows slide off another face that you almost forgot was was there.  _ Damn sneaky ass spymaster ninja. _ If you weren't fucked before you are now. Her spidey senses probably tingle before people even get the chance to lie. She's trying to keep a poker face but underneath that mask there is silent fury and a storm brewing.

 

You knew this wasn't a dream when you woke up. You really wished it was but fuck if all this shit doesn’t feel real. The ache in your left hand feels too real, the chilling bite of steel on your wrists is too real and the faces of the women who walked in were too real. If this was a hoax they were doing a pretty damn good job.

 

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now."

 

God you need to get your head in the game.  _ Heh _ . Cassandra almost scared the shit out of you and while you hope that she wouldn't kill you without trial-you're pretty sure that Leliana has no qualms about that. Damn what world state are you even in? You hope the Warden didn't piss Leliana off too much. Not that keeping her unhardened had any effect  _ at all _ in the third game. Whoops, sorry Bioware.

 

Shit! You spent too much time thinking and not enough time responding and now Cassandra is grabbing your hand as it flares into pain and- _ FUCK. Shit fuck shit holy ballsacks of god you've never felt anything like that in your life everything is burning and you're vision is blurring and you think you're crying and the light from the anchor is glaring you in the face like it's mocking you and laughing at you what the fuck _

 

Cassandra drops your hand faster than a hot potato and you immediately wrench it back, cradling your fucked up hand with the not so fucked up one. You gasp in air like it’s water in a parched desert. You can't see anything through the tears and like a reasonable person you rasp, "It hurts." Your voice is throaty and raw like you haven't had anything to drink in a while.

 

You're not sure where this is going to go since you've changed the script and already fucked up too much just by being here. While Cassandra takes a step back, maybe in shock, maybe in pity, Leliana moves forward and speaks to you in a much softer voice than you remember in game, her melodious Orlesian accent filling the silence. 

 

"Do you remember what happened?" There's a pause from the warmth of her voice as she studies your face, or at least tries to with how much you're curled into a ball. "How this began?"

 

You've had enough time to recover from that traumatic experience you think. It was much worse than that one time you got hit by a car. In fact, compared to this, that car barely even grazed you. This was like having your hand blow torched and the skin seared off over and over again except it just happened all at once.

 

"There..." Should you stick to the script? Wouldn't it be easier to tell them the truth right now? Would they think you were out of your mind? You think about your own society and what happens to  _ crazy  _ people. Aw  _ hell  _ no. If the twenty first century couldn't deal with other worlds there's no way the middle ages could. "There were things chasing me," You say, perhaps a little too eagerly, "And then...a woman? Sh-She reached out to me." Fuck if you could remember the exact script of the game. At least you got the general gist of it.

 

"A woman?" Leliana echoes. 

 

Cassandra, having regained her composure, steps in, "Go to the forward camp Leliana. I will take her to the rift." 

 

Leliana walks away, looking back at you as if to say this interrogation wasn't over. You stay silent after that. Cassandra removes your shackles and ties your hands with rope instead, which irritate the skin around your left wrist if you wriggle around too much but you still take the opportunity to wipe your tears away. You feel a little numb as you walk up the stairs of the creepy, religious, sex dungeon. 

 

This is going to suck ass. You already know. Discussing theories and characters was great and enjoyable. Actually being stuck with them was a whole ‘nother ball game. You could love a character without agreeing with them wholeheartedly. The implications behind agreeing with them to be their friends makes you extremely uncomfortable and you hope that they aren't as one track minded in real life as they were in the game. 

 

Not only that but everything here is going to be out to kill you! Like holy shit! Literally everything! As a modern human from 2017 Earth you are literally defenseless. What are your skills? Oh a decent education paired with totally hip dance moves? Have fun with that when bears are going to tear you limb from limb! Or when bandits are trying to gut you! You want to laugh but the situation is so dire that it's not even funny anymore.

 

The warrior woman leads you past the chantry doors and you almost fall over at how ridiculous this is. The universe is laughing so hard that the sky is shitting green meteors at you. A huge asshole gave an even bigger asshole his orb who then proceeded to tear the sky a giant gaping asshole. Really? What’s next? Demon assholes falling out of the sky?  _ Oh wait _ . 

 

Cassandra begins her little speech on the gaping asshole and other, smaller green assholes that have emerged lately. You stare at her and open your mouth to respond until a rumbling shockwave burst from the Breach. It hits you with the same force as before and although you can’t hold back the yell of pain you feel a little proud of yourself for not crying this time around. Your legs did collapse from under you causing you to fall but that’s besides the point.

 

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it is killing you.”

 

You zoned out right then and there. You know, after the, “You’re going to die,” part. You don’t want to die. Not yet at least. What about your friends? Family? What the hell happened to living a full and prosperous life and only kicking the bucket when you’re old and grey? What about fulfilling your dreams and living the life? You barely even went through your bucket list. You can’t do any of that _here._

 

You realize you’re supposed to reply when you feel Cassandra’s impatient glare drilling holes into you. “Well. I  _ really _ don’t want to die yet. And  _ not  _ dying is always very convincing. So I guess you have a deal Lady Pentaghast.” You look at her with an awkward smile until Cassandra raises an eyebrow slightly and smiles back.  _ Shit. _ Were you allowed to know who she was so early in the game? Isn’t she the right hand of the Divine? Hopefully it wouldn’t arouse any suspicion so early in game.

 

_ Game? _ This isn’t a game, you think, feeling the heat from Cassandra’s strong grip as she helps you get back on your feet.

 

“They have decided your guilt,” She says as she leads you through a crowd of angry villagers. “They need it. The people of Haven our most holy Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry.”   
  
You hear the rise in tone as the Seeker says her name.

 

“The conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between Mages and Templars,” She continues as you’re guided out of the much bigger than you initially thought village. “She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.”

 

“We lash out like the sky,” The creak of the gates can be heard and your heartbeat quickens, “But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the breach is sealed.”

 

“There will be a trial, I can promise no more.” She stops to look at you as she says this and you feel as though she’s calmed down enough that this is a genuine promise. “Come, it is not far,” Cassandra adds as she cuts the rope, freeing your hands. With a closer look at your hands and arms, you realize that, even though your clothes felt familiar, you’ve actually been wearing them underneath the starting mercenary outfit this entire time. You feel slightly embarrassed not noticing this from the start. No  _ wonder, _ you weren’t feeling all that cold. You’ve been wearing two layers of clothes since you woke up.

 

You continue to remain silent as she guides you towards the valley and as you walk past the people yelling about the apocalypse, the Breach strikes you down again, more painful than before. You almost rip the sleeves off your arms as you pull them up and shove the entire arm into the snow, hoping the cool air would soothe the mark as it violently spread past your wrist.

 

“The pulses are coming faster now.”

* * *

 

 

**CYCLE TWENTY FOUR**

You are tired. The dark circles under your eyes make that pretty obvious. You guess anyone would be if they were so nervous waiting for this day to come. Again. 

 

You need to make sure you don’t die. Again.

 

You are Anaan Adaar. Again.

 

This is also the fourth time you are witnessing the destruction of Haven. You’ve become numb to the terrible stench of burning bodies. Especially since half of the burning Templars are your handiwork.

 

You’ve gotten a pretty good handle on the Inferno class of magic. In fact, it was the one that came easiest to you. Your basic understanding of modern physics helped a lot to be honest. Who knew heat was just teeny, tiny particles moving very quickly. You tried to explain that to one of the mages once. They thought you were crazy.

 

Oh  _ well,  _ you think. They can blast shit using their own, outdated,  _ primitive _ method. You’ve got the power of science to make things instantaneously combust.

  
Sometimes you aren’t a mage though, and it makes things harder. Defending yourself is harder and you tend to die faster as Tori Cadash than anyone else. You love Tori Cadash though, she’s adorable and her family is great. You’re not exactly sure how this whole body swapping thing worked. Each time you were human you were just you, and that had always been pretty hard to explain, considering it was always Trevelyan in the weird fade flashback. You don’t know what happened to them and it makes you sad. What if they were still trapped in the fade? That would have sucked.

* * *

 

**CYCLE ???**

You just lay there on the ground, humming a pop song you’ve repeated ten times over. The Seeker and Nightingale walk in again, right before you were going to break into the chorus. What a shame, you’ve become quite good at singing.

 

They talk to you but you can’t find the will to say anything back. You just lie there, cold and tired. You’ve done this song and dance long enough that you recognize who you are just from the feeling of the body. You’re yourself again. A shame, your human body seems to die the most. It’s weak. Just like you.

  
Enough of this pity party you think. But your entire life has become a pity party. You are weary and tired and  _ exhausted.  _

 

You punch Alexius in the face before he has the time to react and knock him out. You then search his body for the amulet and stash it away for safekeeping. Fuck you are so done with this bullshit. Felix gapes at what has just transpired and you open your mouth to say something, but decide against it since you haven’t used your voice in a while. Instead you sign to Cassandra to get the mages and you walk out, heading for the Chantry. You need to close that stupid ass rift so you can use your time trying to get the Templars at least.

* * *

**CYCLE ???**

Betrayal.

 

After all this time. After years of resetting the timeline, over and over and over again this is what you get in return.

 

Rage fills you as you are left with the shattered remains of his orb. “If I didn’t go back this world would have been destroyed thousands of times over.”

 

Hot, angry tears flow down your face as you pound your fists on the ground, “I have died,” a pause as you try to collect yourself, “So many times.” 

 

“You would all be dead!” You scream, voice cracking.

 

You sit there for the longest time, blankly staring at the orb, cheeks stained with tears.

  
“If there’s a god out there,” You take a deep breath before continuing, “Then have mercy. Just let me die already. Or send me back. Please. I’m so tired. I am so,  _ so,  _ tired of this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so that got real depressing, real fast.
> 
> Admittedly this was inspired by a variety of sources. Some of the fics here you may have seen use the whole Edge of Tomorrow approach (every time you die the timeline resets) and I was inspired to do the same by both the movie and the fics. 
> 
> I was actually going to go for a Life is Strange approach (being able to rewind time to about ten minutes) but decided this would be more angsty

**Author's Note:**

> Translations: (warning: pretty explicit!)
> 
> Vaffanculo - Fuck you - Italian  
> Madarchod - Motherfucker - hindi  
> J’en ai ral le cul - I’m so fucking done - French  
> J'en ai plus rien à foutre - I couldn’t give a flying fuck anymore - French
> 
> This idea came about when i saw all these fics where english didn't translate to king's common! so i thought i wanna try that! i was planning a whole series with all the languages in thedas but -shrug- i guess im just too lazy  
> The language isn't just gobeldygoop btw! If you can figure it out,,,i see fortune in your future?


End file.
